The Downfalls of Anarchy
by Sugar144
Summary: After Isabella Swan is shipped off by her paniced mother to live with her cop father in the dreadful little town of Forks to cease her rebellious ways, she meets her prince charming. If only she believed in such sentimental crap.
1. Chapter 1: The Sassy Hooker

_Disclaimer- If I owned Twilight, I'd be writing books, not fan fiction_

Isabella Swan closed her eyes. The subtle vibration from the car combined with the ever present flashing red and blue lights was beginning to make her nauseous. Perhaps it was the immense quantities of alcohol she's downed previously tonight that was truly causing her sudden illness. Reasons aside, it was safe to say she felt crappy. She was going to get hell for this; that was for sure. It wasn't uncharacteristic of her in the least. Renee would hopefully act in a way which was characteristic of her and not be too harsh. Isabella couldn't shake the feeling though that this time her mom would truly crack.

"We're here." A cold voice said, interrupting her from her thoughts.

The policeman exited the car and walked around to open her door. "Get out and put your hands behind your back."

She got out and turned her back, stretching her arms behind her. Ice curled around her wrist. Or rather, it felt like ice. The cold, unwelcoming handcuffs the policeman aggressively forced onto her wrist made a _click _sound as he closed them to an appropriate tightness. He escorted, or rather dragged her, over to the police station. Upon entry the police officer who had picked her up nodded at another police officer sitting behind a desk.

"Hey Carl," Her police officer addressed the other. "Put this one in a holding cell while I draw up her papers."

'Carl'grabbed her arm and led her behind the desk into the area where the cells seemed to be. He guided her past a couple of cells jam packed with what looked like a couple varieties of zoned out junkies and plentiful hookers. All those residing in the cells seemed to be female and Isabella guessed that this was the section of cells designated 'feminine offenders' or something official like that.

He roughly shoved her into a cell occupied with six hookers and a slovenly twenty something girl who was stroking the wall. She must have been the occasional junkie. With no word of parting Carl slammed the cell door shut and walked away in the direction they had come. And that was it. No 'oh good luck with the whole stuck in a cell with a bunch of freaks thing'. Nope, squat.

"You," A large hooker said with lip stick smeared all over her face wearing a tacky red and silver corset matched with black fishnets and purple pumps.

"Me?" Isabella asked stupidly while pointing to herself.

"Yes you," She answered haughtily. "What you in for?"

"Um, drunken loitering," Isabella said weakly.

"Drunken loitering?" She asked incredulously. She burst out laughing and the other hookers snickered.

Isabella shrank back into the corner standing a couple of feet from the delusional junkie. The junkie acknowledged her presence by giving her a loose smile. She looked at her and smiled back. Please don't try and talk to me, Isabella prayed.

"Your eyes," The junkie breathed. Isabella groaned quietly. "They're so… _deep._ Like pools of chocolate."

"Thanks." Isabella offered a terse word of gratitude.

"Hey coco eyes," Another hooker called. She looked as if she was withering away. Her stringy blonde hair was pulled up in a loose bun and she sported a tight pink top exposing her midriff paired with a minuscule jean skirt. "You ever given a blowjob?" She asked. She didn't leave a chance for Isabella to answer. "Tell ya what; I'll give you some valuable tips if you give me that bracelet you're wearing."

Isabella looked at the tennis bracelet her grandmother had given her for her last birthday dangling on her wrist. "No thanks."

She snickered to herself. "You're missing out on some tips that'll drive your man crazy." She paused, did a one up, then added; "Looks like you're the kind of girl who needs a couple of pointers."

Isabella was aware they she probably looked like crap. She had thrown up several times that night and her hair was a mess. She probably looked no better then the rest of the girls in this cell but even still; that was no reason to diss her supposed sexual performance. "You know what bitch; I think I can do just fine on my own." She spat out.

"Oh no she didn't" several whispers came from the other side of the cell where the other hookers had clustered watching what now seemed to be a cat fight.

The Kate-Moss-skinny hooker who had offered paid sex advice smirked at her outburst. "Oh please hunny, I'm a professional. I know a virgin when I see one."

And that's when it all went down hill for Isabella. She was certainly not a virgin and as luck would have it, had a horrible temper. People who assumed things about her were one of her many triggers. She was stubborn and ill tempered. That's just who she was.

And that is how Isabella Swan, at three am on a Sunday morning at the neighborhood police station in Phoenix Arizona, came to knocking a hooker out in one powerful punch.

"Oh snap." Yet another out spoken hooker laughed. One of them patted her on the back. It seemed that an act of violence was what it took to get their respect.

"Hey you!" a police officer boomed while stormed down the narrow corridor gated by cells.

"Looks like you're in shit now." One of the hookers noted then proceeded to cackle and shake her head.

The police officer forcefully whipped open the cell door and looked at Isabella with fury filled eyes. "Come with me." He thundered.

As he ushered her down the hall she heard the cheers and laughs of the hookers in her cell. It occurred to her that punching hookers was not helping her in her current situation. The officer led her back into the police station and motioned to a phone.

"You get one call." he grunted. She had a feeling she was getting this call now so he could get her the hell out of here.

She fingered the numbers on the telephone dial, who to call, who to call. There was dear old mom of course, who would certainly come to pick her up from this hell hole but not without a stern talking to. She momentarily considered calling one of her friends with a car but revised her plan when she figured she'd probably need a parent or guardian to bail her out. Great, Renee it was.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice said.

"Hey mom," Isabella answered.

"Isabella?" her mom asked in a sleepy stupor.

"Uh, yeah."

"Are you in trouble?" She questioned, more alert now.

"Um, kind of; I'm at the police station."

"Oh heavens," Her mom breathed "I'll be there soon."

Isabella hung up. She was comforted by the fact that she wouldn't be here much longer but disturbed by the fact that her mom would be picking her up at a police station. It was a catch 22, bad on all fronts.

The officer asked her questions while she waited for her mother. Things like _how old are you _and _how often do you usually drink_. It was complete bullshit in her opinion. Did anyone ever tell the truth with these kinds of questions?

"Bella." Renee called as she walked through the doors. Bella was her mother's nickname for her. Everyone else called her Isabella.

"Hey mom." She offered as her mom immersed her in a tight bear hug.

"Miss Swan?" The police officer asked Isabella's mom.

"Yes?"

"Please sign these papers permitting Isabella Swan to be released to your care. The bail is five hundred dollars. Please make the check out to Phoenix Police Department." The officer said suddenly being courteous. Of course he saved such kind treatment for the non-criminals.

Her mom scribbled down her signature on the papers and wrote a check. "Thank you sir." she said as she led Isabella through the doors. They both climbed into her mom's car.

"Bella." Renee said calmly once they started the car. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what anymore?" Isabella questioned.

"This. Last month it was picking you up at the hospital for alcohol poisoning and now I'm picking you up at the _police station _for drunken loitering. I can't tolerate it any longer."

"Alright, fine, I get it. I've been behaving badly lately." Isabella said defensively.

"Lately doesn't even begin to cover it Bella." Renee said quietly. "Ever since you were little you've been rebelling. And I can't seem to do anything about it." Her eyes were getting teary.

"I'm sorry mom." Isabella whispered.

"You're going to live with your father, in Forks."

"WHAT?" she yelled in shock. Life was over. This was the end. She would have to live in that depressing little town with sad little people and die old and alone. She could see it now. "Pull over."

"What? Why?" Renee questioned.

"I have to puke." The car parked at the side of the road and Isabella bolted out. She knelt down and puked the contents of her stomach beside a cactus. Whether it was the alcohol or the prospect of living in Forks, she didn't know.

**A/N: Please review to let me know if I should continue this story. I love feedback. **


	2. Chapter 2: The Drunken Old Crone

Isabella impatiently slurped her ginger ale. She needed something stronger. When she'd asked the flight stewardess for one of those mini bottles of vodka, she had laughed in her face. Great, not only was she being shipped off to a godforsaken little nobody town but she was also denied hard liquor to smooth the process. She looked over at the menopausal women beside her. Normally Isabella would have been sleeping on the flight but the goddam women wouldn't stop sobbing. Her eye makeup was running down her face and she was curled up in the fetal position propped against the window. Suddenly Isabella had an idea.

"Um, are you alright Miss?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh don't worry about me dear," the old crone sniffled. "I'll be alright."

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" Isabella asked in her best attempt to be nurturing.

"It was my husband. He ah…" she sniffled some more and continued; "He cheated on me."

"Oh no you poor thing!" Isabella exclaimed with false sympathy.

"I always knew he wasn't faithful," she wailed. "I just never wanted to believe it."

"So how did you find out?" Isabella pushed.

"Last night I caught him and his slutty secretary!" she shrieked. She looked around cautiously and calmed down. "I'm sorry dear, that is a nasty word and I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Oh don't worry," Isabella cooed. "I've heard worse. So why are you going to Washington?"

"My sister offered to put me up when I told her what happened," she explained.

"That was nice of her," Isabella noted softly. The hysteric women nodded and smiled. "You know what would really help you?" She said with confidence in her words.

"What?" the women asked interested.

"Some vodka."

"Vodka?" the woman asked.

"Oh yes, Vodka," Isabella nodded. "It'll help you forget all about this."

"That would be nice…" the women said thoughtfully.

"Of course it would. And do you know what?" Isabella questioned.

"What?" she asked again.

"You could order a couple of those little bottles and make a celebration of it."

"A celebration," she repeated dreamily and smiled. "Ok, why not?"

"Great," Isabella grinned, mostly to herself.

A flight stewardess walked by and the fooled old crone flagged her down. "Um excuse me Miss?" she asked.

"Yes is there something you would like?" the flight stewardess asked in sugary compliance.

"Six bottles of vodka please."

"Um Miss," she answered concerned. "That exceeds the limit of air safety regulations."

"My husband just cheated on me with his twenty-something secretary."

The stewardess smiled. "I'll get those for you right now."

And as promised, six mini bottles of vodka arrived promptly. The poor old crusty cheat-ee passed out after two bottles, choking on her sobs in her sleep. Isabella of course was then treated to a happiness buffet of four bottles of vodka. After two or three bottles she forgot about the stupid little town of Forks. As she downed the fourth, the captain came on the speaker system announcing our arrival. It was bliss, to not have to think about anything. Her mind skipped around to random subjects keeping her preoccupied as they were descending.

"Thank you Ladies and Gentleman for flying with JetBlue." The Captain announced over the speaker. It occurred to her then that they had landed.

Everyone rose and got their things out of the overhang departments. She stood up and the plane started spinning. She wobbled around a bit then caught my balance. Perhaps she should have been drinking earlier on in the flight. She removed my bag from the overhang and glanced over at the drunken woman. She was snoring lightly and sniffling every so often. Isabella contemplated waking her up but decided against it. She thought it would be funny for the air stewardess to do it herself.

Isabella walked out of the plane and into the terminal. After getting through customs and security and all that crap, she picked up her luggage and entered the arrivals area. There stood Charlie, smiling up at her. He hadn't changed a bit since the last time she saw him which was a while ago; she couldn't remember when. She walked over to him and he gave her an awkward hug.

"Hey Bells," he grinned, calling me her childhood nickname.

"Hey Ch- dad" She smiled back, pleased that sje was able to stop myself from calling him Charlie in her drunken haze.

"Are you ok?" he asked. She hoped he couldn't smell her breath. It reeked of vodka.

"Yeah, a little out of it because of the plane ride I guess." She answered nonchalant.

"Ok," he answered cautiously still keeping his quizzical eyes on her face. "You need help with those bags?"

"Yeah sure," She smiled politely.

She attempted to give him her bags but stumbled in the process.

"Bells…" he sighed in a authority ridden voice.

"Yes dad?" She asked innocently.

"Have you been drinking?" He asked pronouncing each syllable.

"No."

"Is that so?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Let me smell your breath." He challenged.

"What?" She exclaimed outraged by his persistence. Renee was never this through. "No."

He gave her a look and she rolled my eyes. She breathed in his face and he gave her a stern look. "You're drunk."

"Am not!" She shrieked. Oh yeah, that was convincing, she thought.

"You're grounded. One month Bella. You go to school then you come home, nothing else. Got it?" He demanded.

"What? No way!" It was unnerving how this guy suddenly decided to play the dad card after all these years and grounded her within two minutes of her being in his care.

"Sorry Bells but that's the way it has to be." He shook his head. "Your mother sent you here to help you and I see she wasn't exaggerating about your situation. So try to be good, not for me but for your mother."

"Fine," She said grudgingly. She was clearly pouting but this situation was not fair. She wasn't about to make it easier for Charlie.

"Now let's get you in the car and back home." He said taking her bags and leading her outside.

For fuck's sake, he took the police cruiser, she thought. Charlie trudged over to it carrying my bags and popped open the trunk. As if she didn't have enough bad memories in the back of a police cruiser, Charlie seemed adamant about adding more. She climbed into the back seat and got comfortable. Charlie got in the drivers side and buckled up.

"You know you can sit up here if you want," he offered.

"I know."

"Well, buckle up," he said as he put the car into gear. She didn't.

"You know Bells, you might like it here." he said hopefully. Ha, fat chance, she thought bitterly.

She sat back and let myself resign to a state of alcohol induced lethargy.

**A/N: Hope you liked the latest chapter of my story. And do not fret, the Cullens will be making their debut soon… oh and I would love that if in your review you said if you wanted the Cullens to be human or vampire. Thanks.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Rosy Secretary

Isabella gingerly approached the heavy front doors of the school. Behind her was a curtain of unrelenting rain. In a series of spastic movements, she had made it from the haven of her warm new bulky truck into the unforgiving downpour and under the dry beetling overhang. The sun spotted terrain of Arizona was far behind. It was in remorseful thought that she remembered the wonderful days of shorts and tee-shirts and blistering heat. The memories held true to a different world, so unlike this land of lurid green and persistent precipitation. Charlie exuded zero sympathy, shipping her off to school and into the overcast gloom known to him as inescapable reality. Isabella viewed it as avoidable torment.

Even still, Isabella swung open the heavy wooden doors into her inescapable reality: school. It had grown accustomed to her to view school as optional as opposed to compulsory. School was an occasional dalliance, a frivolous act of redemption for her mother's good graces. Charlie however conveyed a certain rigour when dealing with intellectual development. His view was stern and intolerant and ultimately set in stone. Isabella's words of opposition fell on deaf ears. So it was set that today would be Isabella's first day at Forks High.

Upon entry to the main office, Isabella's presence was observed by a large secretary whose rosy cheeks matched the horrendous rose dotted attire she sported so proudly. Her plump hands shuffled through various stacks of paper. Her beady eyes corresponded with the movements of her hands, looking briefly at each paper she touched. Her short, feathered, blond hair bobbed on her head with each swift movement she made.

"You must be Isabella Swan," the secretary said with still sorting through papers, never trailing her eyes from her desk.

"Yes, actually it's Bella," she answered in strained courtesy. She found comfort in her mother's nickname and decided that in this strange little town, she would rename her self Bella to further herself from her ugly reality.

"Of course, now here is your schedule as well as your locker and its combination," the secretary's plump hands picked a couple pieces of paper from the piles she'd been sorting and handed them to Bella.

"Thank you," Bella smiled in hopes of eliciting a friendly thought from the woman. Perhaps at a later date Bella would need a favor from the women, in which case the women would be obliged to help.

Bella sauntered down the hall, trailing her fingers along the lockers and focusing on the diminishing numbers: 123, 122, 121…. Bella's locker was 96. When she had sought out her locker, she took her lock in her hand and entered the code she had been given. With one or two forceful tugs, the lock came undone. Inside was nothing sort of a few empty shelves. Standard industrial public school didn't leave out Forks. She took out her books and supplies from the bag she'd been totting around and arranged them in her locker. She knew though that tomorrow her locker would be an unrecognizable disarray of school paraphernalia.

"You must be Isabella," a timid masculine voice noted. Bella looked up and saw a well put together young man. In other words: the enemy.

"Actually it's Bella," she offered a terse correction and went back to sorting her things. The boy was persistent though.

"I'm Eric by the way. What class do you have first? I could show you the way." It occurred to Bella that she had no idea where anything was.

"I have, ah, English," she answered whilst reading her schedule.

"Perfect, me too," he smiled with such ignorant compliance and innocent intention that Bella was over whelmed with the compulsion to punch him square in the face.

Bella could either fumble around the school like an idiot or have Mr. wholesome ideals prance her around like his new toy. "I think I'll find it on my own thanks."

"Alright then, suit yourself," he shrugged and walked away.

The bell rang while Bella was wandering around looking for the class. The inconvenient layout of the school was hard to navigate and just overall impractical. It was really just separate houses thrown together with the sign 'Forks High School' out front as their only evidence of relation. When she finally made it into the building housing her English class she had to explain to her teacher how she got lost. A smug Eric sat at the front of the classroom, flashing Bella an I-told-you-so smile. She stumped to the back corner of the classroom and took a seat. What she would do for a swig of vodka right about now.

The rest of her morning classes were rather uneventful. They were full of gawking kids, aware of the outsider gracing their pathetic lives, and even over-attentive teachers, so eager to oblige the new girl.

Lunch came and she was invited to sit with a girl she'd met in her calculus class. Her name was Jessica- Bella had met many girls like her before. She would talk, talk, talk till your ears became numb then she'd attempt to pry any sort of information from you she saw fit for leverage. Perhaps she would need it in the future. At Jessica's table was a nice, timid girl named Angela, who would occasionally interject into Jessica's incessant babble to put forth an interesting idea or thoughtful comment. She wasn't the kind of girl Bella would usually befriend but she found herself liking her. Then of course there was Mike Newton, the typical jock. He and another kid Tyler would belch and chug and high five in regular male fashion. A kid name Ben sat beside Angela, making googly-eyes at her the whole time. He looked like a love sick puppy. And then there was dear old Eric, smug and pompous and wholly.

After lunch Bella was ushered off to her next class: Biology. Upon entering the room she saw a seating plan on the black board. She was in the back (yes!) beside some guy named Edward. She sat down and took out her books and pens. Just then, a Greek god walked into the room, gracing the world with his presence. Bella felt herself melting like butter on toast. As she slid down the slice of bread, the god looked at her. His intense onyx eyes were hard and scrutinizing. He walked over to her table, never dropping his eyes, and sat in the stool next to her. He dropped his eyes and scooted his chair as far as her a possible. His fists were clenched and his knuckles white. His composure was tense. He didn't look at her again for the course of the class but she snuck many a look back at him.

_Edward_. What a fine name for such a _fine_ boy, she thought. His copper hair shone in the luminescence and she couldn't help but marvel. It seemed impossible for such a fucking hot guy to be residing in such a dreadful little town. And that's when Bella decided that she was going to get Edward, one way or another.

As soon as the bell rang he sprinted out of the room. Bella couldn't help but feel offended. He made it seem as if he were appalled by her.

"What'd you do, stab Cullen with a pencil?" Mike asked playfully.

"Who's Cullen?" Bella asked.

"Him: Edward Cullen. The guy who just bolted out of here and was looking at you as if he wanted to murder you," Mike explained.

"Oh, right. I don't know what his problem is," Bella mused quietly. It seemed impossible that she could cause the guy so much distress in such a curt meeting.

Bella knew one thing though: she wanted Edward Cullen more then she'd wanted any guy or any liquor before. And she wouldn't give up until she got him.

**A/N: Short-ish chapter, I know. But don't worry, there is more to come. I hope you like the story so far. Please review with any thoughts or opinions. I'm reading a book called 'The Cornish Trilogy' by Robertson Davies right now. Actually, it's three books because it's a trilogy. Anyway, it's really good and I suggest you read it. **


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